


What is love without pain?

by Medikitty



Series: I lost control again, What is love without pain? [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Affairs, Blow Jobs, Caught red handed, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Smut, Heartache, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Romance, bois bein cowbois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medikitty/pseuds/Medikitty
Summary: It wasn't often Arthur and him got a chance to take on jobs. When they did, it was usually orchestrated so that another trotted along behind them. intense blue eyes watched observingly after the cowboy. Abigail remained around the meeting area merely watching Jack fiddle with the campfire alongside Pearson. She found her lovers' expression interesting— unusual. John Marston never really smiled around camp.Seeing that broad smile made her eyes narrow in thought as to what was going eagerly through that mans mind. There was a time he gave her that look, it felt so long ago now.





	1. Give you everything you've been dreaming of

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for so many good comments and kudos! I really appreciate everything you guys have to say ;-;
> 
> For those who haven't noticed every story I write, the chapter titles are lyrics pulled from a song I listened to while writing to get the right mood. 
> 
> I want to disclaim before I get bashed for triggering or for poor reasoning, I do not support cheating or secret affairs. Historically in this lifestyle, it, unfortunately, wasn't uncommon and with Johns story...choices...poor judgement...well you get where i'm leading.

**"** Alright, that should be all for the evening.  Strauss, please attend to Ms.Grimshaw;  she's in a fuss over the camp duties being unfulfilled... again.  Oh and Marston, go find Morgan and inform him you boys have night watch **.** ** "  **   
  
John couldn't help but perk up to Dutch's orders.  A smile formed onto his features as the small group dispersed.  It wasn't frequently Arthur and him got a chance to take on jobs.  When they did, it was usually orchestrated so that another trotted along behind them.  John could merely assume it was due to a fight had already broken out between the two.  Ever since the air between them had the stagnant lingering tension.  However, it was no longer a tension to try to get at one another's throat.  Those hatchets had been buried, but no one needed to know that.

 

Intense cornflower blue eyes watched observingly after the cowboy.  Abigail remained around the meeting area watching Jack fiddle with the campfire alongside Pearson.  She couldn't help but keep an eye on Marston, finding her lovers' expression interesting— unusual.  John Marston never really smiled around camp, unless drunk off his stupor or fooling about with the boys on the job Dutch assigned.  Seeing that board smile made her eyes narrow in thought as to what was going eagerly through that mans mind.  There was a time he gave her that look, it felt so long ago now.    
  
As soon as it appeared, the smile vanished from Johns' face.  The more mild expression forcibly returned to his harsh features as he stood obediently, fastening his hat to go look for Arthur.   
  
_ Arthur... _

 

They never hit it off as she did with the others when she joined the group of misfits.  Arthur was a man with unsympathetic loyalty and higher morals compared the majority of the Van der Linde gang.  Sure he was well-mannered to her but never tried to establish any sort of acquaintance.  When they did, it was neighboring the dying campfire with far too much booze going around.  His real opinions would spark— flaring to the gin, whiskey or brandy he sipped.   
  
**"** I don't see a lady, so stop spoofing the group like you ain't some runaway harlot that needed savin'.  Now if you could quit your smitten, John and I got work to do. ** " **

  
That lone memory would ring incessantly in her head from time-to-time.  A personal reminder that _Arthur Morgan possessed far more life in him than merely being Dutch's trusty attack dog._

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

 

For once Arthur was in camp, enjoying the evenings amber sunset along the grand river. The air was refreshing, warm with a crisp breeze. He sat comfortably on the dock, t his was definitely one of the more prime places they had settled into, it was an atmosphere he didn't want to forget.  With pencil and journal in hand, the outlaw sketched the breathtaking scenery.  Capturing a memory Hosea would say admiringly.

 

**"** Hey, Arthur! **"** ****

  
The outlaw only grunted in response, fixated on capturing the precise details just right in his sketch before he lacked the motivation.  Furthermore, there wasn't a reason to give full acknowledgment;  he knew well who it was.  The sound of boots gently tapped along the planks with a jingle of the spurs before promptly stopping at his side. John was quiet, observing the talent he wished he could learn. The cowboy never possessed patience for the art, instead taking contentment in watching the outlaw in fascination. He crouched down, sitting on his haunches next to Arthur. The dock was far enough out from camp, no one would think of them doing anything but talking, maybe fishing. Color rose to his cheeks as he snatched his hat off, ruffling his locks of umber and chestnut anxiously.  
  
  
Holding his breath, as if what he was about to do was a fatal decision, the cowboy leaned against Arthur. His bristly chin rested on the outlaw's jacketed shoulder, still examining the man artistically shading the protecting shadows of the trees across the waters vast scape.

  
  
**"** You tryin' to dazzle me or... ? **"**  
  
 **"** Er...Pardon **?** **"**    
  
 **"** You washed that greasy mop atop your head. **"**

  
  
Arthur couldn't help the smirk that tugged gently at the corner of his charming mouth. He didn't even have to look up to undoubtedly see John's baleful glare. He could feel it.

 

**"** Really Arthur **?"** The cowboy grumbled though it was a weak rumble in his throat broodingly.    **"** I obtained some information you ain't gonna be lookin' forward to I'm afraid. **"**   
  
**"** Oho!?  And what is that?  Dutch having another grand plan to have a higher price on our heads **!** **"**     
  
**"** Well, I suppose if that's what you consider being stuck with me for night shift tonight— **"**

  
  
The pencil stopped moving.

  
  
John looked sidelong at Arthur whose head pivoted just enough to meet his eyes.  Nonchalantly Marston arched a brow and rose his head up to give a dramatic shrug adding, **"** I mean if it's that much of a hassle I could see ifJavi- **"**

  
His words were cut off with rough lips crushing against his own, stubble from a several day old shave scraping along his chin.  Hazel-blue eyes instinctively screwed shut, an idle hand grasping the bandana desperately to press their lips flush.

 

**"** I oughta toss you in the water for spouting such shit **"** Arthur parted, giving John a stern glance.  His dear eyes cruelly deceived him as they were filled with mirth to finally be paired up with John after such a long while.  The Cowboy chuckled and pulled away just enough as to not arouse suspicion from any bystanders.  His hand reluctantly released the bandana as the cowboy stretched, sore joints popping from the exhausting hunting trip with Charles.  Not that he didn't enjoy it, but Charles was too mellow for his personal style of hunting.  Or maybe it was in truth because he usually went hunting with Arthur and their rare time spent was... exciting to say the least.

 

Promptly closing the journal and tucking it in his jacket **"** well, if we are to be out all night I gotta get some rest while I can. ** "  **   
  
He pressed against Johns arm as he swung his legs back up on the dock to stand.  Graciously extending his head over, the outlaw grazed his gentle lips along Johns temple planting a tender kiss.

  
  
**"** See you tonight, Wolfie. **"**

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Abigail sat up to the sounds of crackling in the woods.  At first, she wanted to dismiss it as a stray deer or perhaps the chickens roamed out of the camp.  Her mind was still dazed from sleep until she heard more twig snaps.  Deer nor Chickens weren't that heavy footed. _  Maybe John was just patrolling on this side of the camp? _   
  
There were barely audible voices now.  Hard to distinguish but enough to conclude it was more than one.  As a woman with an upbringing as hers, she was swift to rummage around the pouches and bags close by until she pulled out a knife.  It was a cool colored metal with the handle carved from a pronghorn antler.  Brilliant flowers were decorated along its cutting blade.  John, her John gifted it to her for the extended days he was inevitably gone to fabricate what he considered a work. She didn't agree and he would argue until her cheeks were blue. But in the end, they were apart of the Van der Linde gang. She leaned over to give Jack a swift peck to the temple, ensuring he was asleep. Quietly the young woman crawled out from their tent to go investigate. 

 

Something felt rather _off_.

 

 

 


	2. You'll be safe under my control, Just let me in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let out a breathy sigh as he spoke, "Alright, you take hold the reins tonight"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't always smut...but when I do...

"A sigh of relief sounded as nails scraped along the bark of the tree as a thick pressure jarred itself in between the cowboy's legs.  The coiled body went lax, resting on the muscled leg, he was able to make better use of his hands.  The gunslinger kept him hoisted up, pinning the younger against the rough surface.  Instinctively his eager hands roamed their way to that ragged black bandana Arthur loved to wear.  Pulling Arthur by the fabric, John greedily stole the man's eloquent lips for his keeping.   
  
The knee between his limbs pressed hard, grinding into his groin eliciting needy mewl from his exposed throat amidst fervent kisses and nibbles the outlaw stamped into his heated skin.  The elder only chuckled, a calloused hand on one side of Johns' head to keep him grounded while the other wandered to the shiny buttons, unfastening the vest to his own leisure paced.

 

**"** Sh- Shiit Arthur quit your damn teasing already **!"** ****

  
  
**"** Now why the hell would I do that **?"** Arthur purred into John's ear, popping the final button.  Arthur's hand possessively wrapped around the cowboy's waist, his fingers lightly brushing the belt of those damned chaps.  Those chaps that fit John so well, the way they hugged his thighs tightly then flaring outwards to the ends of his boots.  This isn't including the gunslinger's favorite detail, the view the article of clothing created from a rearview.  His hand found itself there, grasping at the denim-clad ass those damn chaps accentuated so finely.   
  
It felt like a lifetime since they were last able to do this, to smother one another in their frustrations, their needs—desires.  Arthur wasted no time to yank the poorly tucked in union shirt out from under his waistband.  That very hand snaked underneath it, eliciting a sharp inhale from his partner.  The warmth of the scared flesh was alluring, tempting Morgan to let go of his own moral and greedily submit to his lecheries.

 

John let out a faint groan, basking in the devoted attention he desperately craved but could only have once in a blue moon.  His head was in a cloud, a pleasant fog that left him never wanting to depart from the coarse hands that greedily ventured his torso.  Those passionate lips that earnestly pressed burning kisses alongside his neck or those eyes.  Lush green as the meadows in the middle of spring, looking at him the way they are now.

  
  
**"** Dammit Morgan **"** the cowboy griped through gritted teeth before an idea entered his mind.  His hands eased from the dark fabric, sliding down the gunslinger's chest, then abdomen and landing themselves on the polished leather holstered belt.  Arthur hummed into his sleek neck thoughtfully but proceeded to suck and kiss up to the cowboy's jawline to be rewarded with pleasing whines gasping for air.  John unbuckled the belt with a metallic snap, causing it to drop to the ground.  With nimble hands he managed to unfasten his partners riding trousers with ease.  Two could play at this game as he rested his hands on the gunslingers' waist, thumbs tracing circles into his inner hips.  It was Arthurs' turn for his breath to catch in his throat.

  
Arthur's head gradually rose from the passion painted neck to look into deep pools of blue, shimmering beads of sweat speckling the younger features.  Arthur raised an eyebrow, daring the other to urge him further.  He would never admit it out loud, but he wanted John to prod at him to the point of bringing himself over the edge.

  
  
**"** Move, **"**  John breathed, giving Arthur a cocky smirk as his ample hips gyrated against the leg that supported him in deliberate emphasis to what he meant.   
  
The limb was removed, leaving the gunslinger watching blue eyes sink down, down, down until John was perched on his haunches, looking up at Arthur with a mocking gaze.  Those cracked lips toying with a witty smirk.  It was a sight Arthur discovered himself suddenly gripping the trunk of the tree white-knuckled with both hands to keep him grounded.  His heart pounded in his ears, all senses heightened.  Beaut—Handso— whatever to appropriately describe the marvelous view before him, he wanted this very moment to burn fiercely into his memory for those difficult nights alone.

 

His mind astray was brought back to the kneading at the hardness straining against his trousers.  Arthur rumbled out a moan, trying to stifle it by biting his rosy lip hard.  He inevitably had to collapse to his forearms, damp sandy locks resting against the trunks bark, now towering over Marston.  John couldn't restrain a wry smile from pulling onto his face, looking up at Arthur with brilliant blue eyes.  Arthur could only just manage a scowl growling.   
  


 

**"** Don't you be needling, John Marston. **"**

**"** Who?  Me?  Why would I ever **?** **"** John scoffed with a playful chuckle, that taunting hand boldly nudging down the front of the maroon color long-johns revealing his partners most urgent needs.

**"** Oh shut up, you lie through your damn teeth like you make a livin' off it! **"**

 

  
The cowboy made a face and grabbed the girthy length at his eye level, issuing an impulsive constricting squeeze in reprimand.

  
The man above him grunted, eyes screwing shut with a gusted exhale.   
  
**"** Don't scorn me of my talents, Arthur Morgan. **"**

**"** Mmmnnn, I reckon you can use that mouth of yours for far more richer uses. **"**

 

**"** Sure, Sure.  but I think I might hang fire for a bit.  It's not very often I get to— **"** He leaned forward, rosy tongue slipping out to run it along the gunslinger tip.  White droplets began to collect from coiled tension and teasing.  John's dark lashes concealed his eyes as he took a moment to oblige in assisting his partner's needs. Plump lips encased Arthurs member with slick heat. The outlaw's abdomen convulsed to the electrifying feeling, his breathing stuttering. Like a gust of wind, the euphoric feeling rose as fast as it died.   
  


**"** —hold the ace. **"** John finished his sentence with a lick at his bottom lip, eyes flicking back up to Arthur.

 

It took all of Arthur's will not to release himself right then and there as he looked down at John, those murky blue eyes twinkling with lust.

 

**"** You are a damn minx, Marston **."** Arthur rumbled, lolling his head a tad. A hand dropped to tangle itself in John's umber hair, stroking his head endearingly before unexpectedly grabbing a fistful. He pushed John's head forward until he felt the slick warmth embrace him once more. He let out a breathy exhale as he spoke,

 

 

**"** —but a damn fine one. **Alright, you take hold the reins tonight."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be Continued.....


	3. You're always watching me fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took everything in her to forcibly cover her mouth with both hands now to immobilize her from voicing her shock.
> 
> Heartbreak? Defeat? Or fear that she had lost him...or perhaps he was never hers, to begin with.

There was a sly snigger from the cowboy as he more than enthusiastically expressed his appreciation by dipping his head once more to swallow Arthur down to his shaft. His victorious chuckle reverberated through the outlaws' member teasingly. Arthur felt his knees buckle to the pulsating feeling shooting up through his spine. His breath hitched through gritted teeth.

 

 **"** Goddammit Boy! **"**

 

John bobbed his head to Arthurs panting, finding a steady rhythm. When the ragged breathing transitioned to faint groans, inquisitive blue eyes couldn't help but flutter upwards to stare up at the gunslinger. Suddenly John hesitated, unable to help himself, his pace slowing. It was a spectacular sight to witness, the tough mean gunslinger falling apart by his doing. He wondered if any of those foolish women— if that Mary Linton got to see this. Damped with perspiration, locks in the dusty and golden hues of a pronghorns pelt clung to the elders face. A few stray strands dangled down towards him, shimmering against the moonlight. It made those eyes shine in frosted shades of mint and sage. Those charming eye's begging, yearning for him— John Marston.

The younger cowboy felt high just looking up at Arthur in such an excellent state of disarray. His gentle hands slipped away from the man's waist and instead reached up towards that captivating face. Rising from his haunches, John caught the elders face with one hand, the other clung to the old bandana. He rose enough so he could seize those sensuous lips. They reciprocated just as eagerly, starved to taste more.

The familiar smells were intoxicating of sweat, hints of sage from healing balms and warm alcohol. John could feel Arthurs heartbeat pulsating along his nape, like a stallions hoofbeat. His senses felt overstimulated, knowing well as quick as they were to cling to one another that it would be over just as fast.

 

 **"** Alright, pretty boy. Let me take care of ya. **"** John said through soft pants when they finally had to breathe, flashing a smug grin. He descended back onto his haunches. Arthurs breathing was heavy, but the cowboy could hear a small snort from his meager gibe.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Her brows knit together as Abigail picked through the trees, careful not to step on any branches.  This usually wasn't the young woman's business, her duty in camp outside to promptly investigate a possible danger but she did so. She had a son to protect.   
  
  
Having worked as a former lady of the night, she was proficient with a knife.  You had to learn quickly in that line of work.  The brunette could overhear the voices getting louder; _ must be getting close _she thought.  It was two males her hearing was able to make out, they sounded like they were forcing themselves to keep hushed... though were doing a terrible job of it.  A sudden gasp or groan was heard that made Abigail stealthily hide behind a tree hoping the sound was not of her getting caught.  She raised her unoccupied hand to her mouth, smothering quickened breaths.  After a few minutes, the peculiar noise subsided back to unrecognizable murmuring.  She let out a lofty sigh of genuine relief.   
  
_ Perhaps one of them fellers is injured?  Where's Arthur?  Or John? _

 

She peeked around the tree, finally spotting the intruders not far off.  At the start, she only spotted one of the two she assumed was sneaking about.  The man's silhouette was shadowed, making his figure barely noticeable.  Abigail's eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see he was hunched over, leaning on the tree for support.  He was having trouble standing;  she could note by his jutted movements from his knees giving way a few times.  Her instinct was to help, maybe she would see who this man was until she saw a rustling at the bottom of the trunk of the tree.  A chill ran down her spine then, making her grip the hunters blade until her knuckles were white.   
  


**"** Marston, dammit please! **"**  the man standing sputtered desperately.   
  


**"** You keep hollerin' like that, I'ma have to yank that bandana off your neck and gag you, Arthur **."**  The second man cooed, just barely audible enough for Abigail to hear.  There was a snarky retort back, but her ears didn't listen as she whipped herself back around the overgrown tree, pressing herself into the crooked trunk.  Eyes wide with an indescribable expression it took everything in her to forcibly cover her mouth with both hands now to immobilize her from voicing her shock.

 

The brunette felt dizzy, her mind frantically scattering in unknown directions.  Her relationship had been like walking on a tightrope for years now.  Just when things got better, something else would shove them off balance.  She wasn't intended to be in this life, but she didn't have options when they accepted her in.  John was a kind face, one of the more adolescent boys then.   
  
She thought perhaps John would look at it her way, that this life wasn't one that ended peacefully.  All she wanted was that happily ever after.  One that ended up with a family and not graves.  When Jack was born there was a spark of hope that maybe the infant could convince him that her badgering words were of truth.  She loved John, but he was more than set on his way with Dutch, Hosea and especially with Arthur.   
  
Abigail couldn't have been more wrong to the cowboys' reaction to being a father.  It was the exact opposite in fact.  Since then nothings been the same between them.  John had his own tent;  she had hers.  They made small talk, no intimacy without an underlying argument.   
  


_ And now? _

  
  
Now explained more than she wanted to admit to herself.  Thin ribbons of tears tumbled down her face, her eyes fastening shut to soothe herself.  She didn't comprehend what she felt.

 

Heartbreak?  Defeat?  Or fear that she had lost him... or _perhaps he was never hers, to begin with._

 

Her breath slowing, Abigail dared to peer around the giant tree, to confirm what she'd seen.   
  
The moon had waned as time passed to create a beam shooting through the leaves and across the pair.  Arthur's back was still facing her, remaining bent over the tree.  John was still shadowed, hard to make out clearly until his head suddenly cocked, tilting into the radiant glow of the moonlight so closed eyes were visible.  The rest of his familiar face remained hidden behind Arthur's curved hips.  Those stormy eyes opened gradually, half-lidded with an almost trance-like expression as they gazed wistfully off a moment behind the gunslinger, meeting a cornflower colored pair.   
  
She attentively observed a seamless transition from dazed, euphoric, to widening with brows furrowing in bewildering confusion on the cowboys features.

  
_ No more. _  Abigail tore away before she saw John's final reaction.  Her mind went to flight mode, having knowledge of she witnessed an affair she shouldn't have.  Carefully gathering up her skirts up to prevent getting caught, the brunette made her escape, careful to not draw any more attention.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_is that...shit **SHIT**_

 

John Marston's hair on the scruff of his neck stood on end, a dreadful chill engulfing him.

 

He was dead- **no, beyond** dead **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot of thoughts rolling in my brain to express Abigail's point of view appropriately. It wasn't an easy thing to write certainly. 
> 
> Also this story is continuing past 3 chappys!


	4. I ain't trying to be the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She- She saw..." was all Marston was able to stammer.

Within an eyes blink, Abigail was gone from view. John remained frozen on sight, reluctantly allowing what happened to sink in. It felt like a rock dropped to the lowest part of his stomach. **Nauseating**.

 **"** Hey, wolfie! John? MARSTON! **"** The cowboy hadn't been aware of the fact he lost all his senses until the gunslinger gripped a hand-full of his umber locks and yanked his head back. Horrorstruck blue eyes looked up into a pair of perturbed sage ones.

 **"** She- She saw... **"** was all Marston was able to stammer. He watched Arthur's brows furrow together in evident confusion, his grasp loosening on John's hair. Leaning forward, John pressed his forehead against the exposed abdomen. Was it unacceptable he just wanted to merely shrug it off? That similar to her constant criticism and griping, he wanted to intentionally disregard her spotting them? Those sparkling blue eyes caught gaping at her own lover shamelessly loving another.

 

_Loving a man._

 

He could feel Arthur's arousal wane, the burning fever between them exhausted.  The silence had John in a chokehold; all he could do was mask his face into the chestnut curls that trailed below the outlaws navel.  He was ashamed. Of what? He couldn't place so clearly.  Sure he and Abigail were on again, even sleeping within the same room.  At the same time, the thought of her mouth gossiping about the camp of them.  Not those rumors provoked him personally...  but Arthur.?

  
_Shit_.  The man will knock you out cold if you commend him on a good deed.  He conveyed an image of himself, and it was one he worked to maintain.  Undergoing that kinda news 'round camp... with Bill and shit— Micha?   
  
**"** Of all the goddamn people... **"**  John overheard Arthur grumble above him.  He must have been on the same wavelength for his following actions consisted of prying the cowboy away, straightening himself out and swiftly whipping out a cigarette.  He struck a match like lightning then puffed vigorously as he had frantically begun pacing.   
  
"Well, if she didn't hate me before, she sure does now" John spoke indistinctly, standing up with a lofty sigh.  Abigail was becoming less a priority as John took a look at Arthur in sudden concern. _  
  
" _ ** You Okay, Morgan? ** __ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.....?


End file.
